Black Lion
by eminery
Summary: Edward has spent years searching for a way to save his brother. However, his search comes to a grinding halt when he finds himself in the midst of a covert war between a radical resistance and - at the centre of everything - the omnipotent and secretive Black Lion Corporation.
1. Chapter 1

_**A quick note on the setting,** this is a modern AU that's based primarily on Brotherhood canon, though there are a few elements of the 2003 series that will become apparent much later._

_Warnings for language; rated T for violence later on._

_I hope you enjoy my first multi-chaptered fic for the Fullmetal Alchemist fandom._

* * *

**Chapter 1**

The boy stared gloomily down the empty corridor that stretched out before him. Balancing his weight on the splintering shaft of a mop, he silently cursed all the dirty feet that had been trailing mud throughout the building all day.

Edward Elric sighed in frustration. The sky was darkening, and the air grew cold in anticipation of a storm; a bitter draft swept in from outside – probably through a broken window – and he shivered violently. The entire building was in a state of disrepair. Edward had wondered many times how this shithole could pass for an office block, which lead to him wondering how the hell he was supposed to clean it every night. It was a waste of goddamn time.

It's for Al, he reminded himself, as he dragged the muddied mop along tacky linoleum. His eyes traced the sweeping motions half-heartedly, ignoring the soapy mess that was blooming around him. Janitorial work was boring as shit. But it was all for Al.

His heart clenched as he thought of his brother. The days and nights flew past Alphonse endlessly but the boy seemed to be outside of time itself, lying prone and unresponsive to the waking world that droned on without him. Edward had been relying on the countless alchemical tomes scattered around his apartment to save his brother; he was certain that some hidden arcana would pull Al from a limbo that Ed couldn't help but feel responsible for, but it had been almost four years. The condition of his little brother hadn't changed.

Ed's shoulders were beginning to ache, and the fingers of his left hand stung from the cold, but he ignored them. He let his mind wander.

_There has to be something I've missed._

Edward gritted his teeth and scrubbed with a heightened intensity. The dull hum of a distant conversation echoed throughout the corridor. He ignored that, too.

_It's not enough. I'm running out of time-_

Raucous laughter snapped Ed out of his musing.

"Exactly, Havoc, you understand! All that natural healing back in Xing just doesn't do it for me. I suppose you can see why I chose to move to the country that's invented robot arms."

Edward stared at the floor blankly, attempting to process what he'd just heard.

The voice continued: "Don't get me wrong – Havoc, stop looking at me like that, I'm trying to be open-minded – medicinal alchemy is useful, absolutely, but even simply mentioning it makes me think of those homeopathy shams. Besides, Amestrian alchemy's practical. It's a jack of all trades."

"Yeah, I get you, boss," came the slightly disinterested reply, as the other person chuckled.

The voices were just beginning to trail off when Edward realised what he'd overheard – medicinal alchemy! Why hadn't any of his books mentioned that? It was a goddamn miracle. The mop fell from his hands with a clatter as the boy dashed along the hallway in pursuit. His shoes squealed against the floor as he skidded around the corner, and found himself face to face with a pair of nonplussed men.

"Hey you," Edward demanded, "tell me about medicinal alchemy!"

One of the men – the taller one, with scruffy blond hair – let out a quiet 'huh!' before crossing his arms. He peered down at Ed with narrowing blue eyes and asked, "Now what exactly are you after, kid?"

"Medicinal alchemy," repeated Ed, "I heard you talking about it."

The blond man – Edward guessed from his voice that this one was Havoc – turned to his companion and shrugged. "Guess he means you, boss," he said.

The other man threw him a sharp glare before turning back to Edward. He had a neat and tidy appearance, and was obviously of Xingese heritage. "It's called alkahestry," he said, "and I don't really know what to tell you. I never studied it formally. I still have the books though, god, where did I put them-"

"Give them to me."

The man known as 'boss' looked aghast. "I'm not giving you my alkahestry books!" he snapped.

"You just said you thought it was bullshit," muttered Ed, "I don't see the problem."

The man stared at him for a moment, before he crossed his arms stubbornly. "Bullshit or not," he said, "those books hold sentimental value, and I'm not about to hand them off to a scruffy-looking child."

Edward groaned. This wasn't working out how he'd hoped, and he felt his cheeks burning with frustration. "You – you don't understand – I need this, it's important!" Ed rounded from one adult face to the other, before he suddenly blurted, "I need them for my little brother!"

The two men threw each other sideways glances, but otherwise remained silent. Ed began to realise that hints of desperation were showing in his expression. Suddenly self-conscious, he lowered his eyes and fixed his gaze on the floor.

The Xingese man exhaled suddenly and ran his fingers through his black hair. "Do you work here?" he asked, gesturing vaguely around the room.

"Yeah. I'm on my shift now."

"You're a janitor?"

"Yeah."

"Bit young to be a janitor, eh," Havoc interjected. "Don't you have schoolwork or something?"

"Dropped out," Edward said flatly.

Havoc raised his eyebrows. "Then what do you do all day?" he asked, perplexed.

Edward's shoulders sagged. The last thing he wanted was a damn pity party. "I work, mostly," he grated, "My brother's in hospital and I have to support him. He's the one I need to help with the – uh, the alkestry books-"

"Alkahestry," the other man corrected. He regarded Edward thoughtfully, taking in the teen's dishevelled appearance. His brow pinched – he seemed to struggle with something internally for a moment – before his mouth curved into a grin. "Congratulations, lucky youth," he said, extending a hand, "you have the good fortune of being offered a job. And I will pay you generously, because I am a generous man."

Havoc stared slack-jawed at his friend. "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed. "You're a sap, Mustang, I swear to god!"

Edward gaped in shock at the man's waiting hand. He managed to gather himself in time to snatch up the hand and shake it fervently. "Uh – cool! Great!" he stammered. "What job are you giving me exactly?"

The man's brow furrowed and he stared at Edward's own gloved hand for a short moment, before his expression returned to its original joviality. "My name is Roy Mustang," he announced, "and I am a journalist. You will perform whatever service I ask of you – Havoc, shut up, I meant coffee runs and running print jobs. You can also get my team those late-night bagels they love so much. Things like that."

It sounded simple enough. "So how much will you pay me, exactly?" Edward asked.

"Two thousand cenz an hour," he replied without hesitation, ignoring Havoc's flailing. "Oh, and I suppose I could lend you the books I have on alkahestry," he added nonchalantly, "under my supervision, of course." He pulled out a business card and pressed it into Ed's hand. "This is the number to my office, and the address is on the back – it's only two floors up. Think it through and give me a call once you've decided."

Ed's eyes lit up instantly, and a smile broke out across his face. "I… yeah! I decided already. I'll do it!" _Two thousand cenz an hour oh my god-_

"Excellent," cried Roy, slapping Ed on the shoulder. "You can start on Monday, mister…" He paused, before raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Edward Elric," the boy replied. With shaking fingers, he clumsily folded the business card and crammed it into his back pocket.

Roy suddenly became aware of his friend fidgeting restlessly at his side, and chuckled. "This man here is Jean Havoc, the team's second favourite photographer" – Havoc huffed in irritation – "but I'll introduce you to everyone else when you start. In the meantime, you have yourself a good weekend, kid!" With that, Roy turned sharply on his heel and strode away, Havoc trailing aimlessly behind him, leaving the teen awestruck in his wake.

Edward stared as the two men stepped into the distant elevator, and he continued staring long after its metallic doors had closed behind them. It was a while before he was able to fully comprehend what had just happened.

Numbly, Ed made his way back to where he'd unceremoniously thrown his mop in a hurry. That encounter had put him a little behind schedule – there were still pot plants to water – but he wasn't particularly bothered by it. If this new job offer worked out, his supervisor couldn't exactly rebuke Ed for neglecting that ugly bonsai on the third floor.

"Pot plants aren't worth two thousand cenz an hour," Ed whispered gleefully, as he picked up the mop and carried on with his work, and remembered how satisfying it felt to be hopeful.

* * *

Roy tried to ignore Havoc's glares, he honestly did, but the blue eyes burned into the side of his head with a white-hot intensity. He couldn't take it anymore. He rounded on his colleague and stared pointedly back.

"Kid's getting paid almost as much as I am," Havoc muttered.

"Kid's probably about to get more money in one day than he would see in an entire week," Roy pointed out. "Besides, you heard him. His brother is in hospital, and you know what _that_ means."

Havoc nodded gravely. "Could work in our favour too, I guess," he mused. "That Elric kid would have to deal with Black Lion a lot, right? If we could link his brother's sickness-"

Roy raised his hand dismissively, cutting him off. "Havoc, we're not going to exploit Edward and his brother for the sake of reporting. I do want to help them."

"Yeah, yeah," the blond man conceded with a yawn. "I guess we have enough dirt on Black Lion anyway. Your friend better deliver on this fancy information, you hear me?"

"He will," Roy assured him, as a disembodied voice announced cheerfully that they'd reached the first floor. Two heavy silver doors opened with a rumble and cold air rushed inside. Roy gritted his teeth at the sudden iciness and tightened the scarf wrapped around his neck. He stepped out of the elevator, but turned around to look inquisitively at Havoc, who hadn't moved to follow.

Havoc shook his head. "I parked underground," he said sheepishly. "Couldn't get a spot."

Typical. Roy couldn't help but chuckle. Throwing a casual wave over his shoulder, he made his way towards the thick glass doors at the end of the foyer, and the heavy rain that pelted down outside.

* * *

The air was sharp and sterile. Edward wrinkled his nose at the bitter stench and tried not to feel dwarfed by the enclosure of white walls. The plain, bare room had always made him feel uncomfortable, and somewhat out of place – almost as though he were intruding on sacred ground. He truly hated hospitals. Then again, he was thankful to have finished his work early enough to be granted a visit in the first place, even if he had to dash through rain to get there.

The frail figure that was Alphonse Elric lay before him, small and vulnerable, framed by thin white sheets. Edward let his hand rest on his brother's forehead, but the skin was cold as usual, marked by a familiar darkness in hollowed cheeks.

"Sorry it's taking me so long," Ed murmured to the seemingly lifeless body of his brother.

He sighed, sat beside Al on the hospital bed, and withdrew his right hand from his pocket. Steel fingers gleamed under the low-hanging light. He flexed them absent-mindedly, listening to the dull clicking of metallic joints.

"The automail isn't as bad as you'd think," he mused dully, "not bad for a factory issue, anyway. Granny Pinako still can't give me one of hers. I think her shop's going out of business, but Winry's been a little vague on that front…" Ed reclined slightly, and lifted his gaze to the ceiling. It was peppered with grey stains. "I don't deserve the fancy stuff though," he added sadly, "I'm the one who got us into this mess."

He paused for a second, and glanced down at his brother. The figure remained unmoving.

It would have been Alphonse's nature to try and share the blame, but Edward knew that wouldn't be fair. Al had always been the good one. Ed wistfully recalled his brother's stubborn insistence that the transmutation had to wait until after he'd finished all of his homework.

It hurt to admit, but Edward missed his brother. It also hurt to admit that he was tired and lonely, and that he was not in control of his life, and that the entire thing was his own damned fault in the first place.

Edward grasped his brother's hand firmly, protectively – he could be protective now, right? He'd just been offered a new job. A better job. He could afford to spend more time studying, more time figuring out how to awaken Al from this mental purgatory that locked him away from the rest of the world. It was time he desperately needed, and yet he still needed more. Edward gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the tightness in his throat. He was sorry, he was so sorry for everything he'd done that he thought the guilt would tear him apart, but he just _needed more time-_

The teen's shoulders slumped as the enormity of his burdens dragged at him from the inside.

"Just a little longer, Al, I promise. Hold on for me."

* * *

The streets were quiet and empty.

Edward wandered alongside a small strip of shops. Most of them had closed down but in spite of the rot, their eaves remained stable and provided shelter from the ceaseless downpour. Ed squinted at the skyline; he could see apartments with peeling and stained exteriors in the distance. Not too far now, thank goodness – his automail leg was beginning to ache at the port. The damned thing always acted up in the cold.

The entire city seemed to be awash with grey. Dark smoky trails dribbled out of almost every chimney and snaked up to the gloomy sky, where a hazy mist obscured the large expanse above where stars should be. The view was desolate and lifeless. Edward felt his chest tighten in the cold, and he tried to shuffle deeper into his red coat to retreat from the winter chill. He turned a final corner and made his way down a street lined with tall buildings that went as far as Ed could see and disappeared over the horizon.

The whole place made him sick.

Edward glanced up at one particular apartment block that towered above him. It looked more like fortification than a place to call home, and yet here he was, fumbling with keys as he kicked open the wooden door in front of him and began the arduous climb up the stairwell to his humble abode.

He passed many doors on the way, and Ed assumed they all hid behind them a similar story to his own: someplace damp, crowded, dusty, and probably smelling terrible. The people here were tense, but they were quiet in their tension, a fact which frustrated him to no end.

The shrill ringing of a telephone reached Edward before he'd even gotten close to his own apartment. He crashed through the front door, slammed it shut, and bolted over to the receiver.

"What?" he answered abruptly.

"Edward! I called you earlier, but you didn't answer. Just checking up on you. How are you doing?"

Edward smiled. "Winry! Hey," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Yeah, all good over here. Automail's pissing me off though. You should have stuck with engineering, you could make automail a million times better than this."

Somewhere, on another distant receiver, Winry Rockbell laughed. "Sorry, sorry," she replied giddily, "but I'm not psychic, you know! How was I supposed to know you suddenly require automail? Besides, computer science is the way of the future, and it just so happens that I'm good at it. People don't really need automail these days, anyway. Not as much as they used to."

"I fuckin' need it!"

"Well, you're a special case, aren't you?" She hesitated suddenly. Edward could practically hear an internal conflict on the other end of the line. "Um. Ed, I have some news, by the way," she said tentatively, "that's also sort of why I called."

"Is it about Granny Pinako? She hasn't gone bust, has she?"

"No, no – not yet, at least." Winry sighed, and the sound was tinny through the receiver. "This is about my – um, my application to Black Lion Corporation. They accepted. I'll be starting in their internship program, I just have to confirm my place."

Edward felt his stomach churn. "Oh," he said stupidly.

"If I confirm," she continued, "I'll be living in their student housing. It's pretty far away. You had to move far enough from us as it is, and I don't… I don't want to move any further if you aren't–"

"Winry, I'm fine," grumbled Edward, "I can deal with this, okay? You need to quit worrying about me. I just got another job offer anyway."

"Hey, that's great!"

"Yeah, it came from some guy called – shit, what was it…" Edward fumbled around in his back pocket and pulled out the crumpled business card. "Uh. Roy Mustang. He's a journalist or something, I dunno."

"I think I've heard of him," Winry mused, "but I haven't read anything he's written. I'm glad to hear he's offered you a job though."

Edward couldn't think of what to say, so he just stared blankly into a distant corner of the dark room, not entirely sure how to feel. He absent-mindedly noted that something dark and wet was dripping from the roof. He'd have to yell at whoever lived on the floor above.

Winry was the one who broke the silence when she quietly asked, "How's Al doing?"

Edward gulped, and tugged at the telephone cord uncomfortably. "He's – quiet. As usual."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. I'll try and visit you both before I leave, okay?"

"Okay," he sighed, a little relieved but not entirely at ease. The two continued talking, but Edward couldn't help but notice a slight tension between them. They'd been friends as long as he could remember, even in the years before his and Al's father had left, but the times they'd visited each other grew fewer over the years.

Edward regretted that. Then again, he knew that there wasn't much they could do to help it; Winry had a bright and promising future in computer science and her studies were demanding, while Ed was so determined to help Al in some way that he barely had time to sleep, let alone socialise. Still, he hoped she would visit. It would be months before she'd ever have the time again.

The two were just about to hang up when a thought occurred to Edward. "Winry, before you go," he said, "good luck at - uh, at your internship thing."

"Thanks, Ed."

"Be careful."

"I know," Winry grated, "you've told me."

"Black Lion is messed up. They get everything ass-backwards."

"Okay! Okay, I get it, goodnight."

There was a dull click, and the harsh sounds of the dial tone resonated in his ear. Edward carefully placed the phone back in the receiver.

The flat was silent again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"And you're Rosa – no, wait, _Riza_ – sorry, sorry!"

Riza smiled gently. "It's all right, Edward," she said, "you'll get the hang of it before long. I'm the photographer here, along with Havoc."

"Yeah, I already met him," Edward replied, and he turned to the burly, redheaded man beside Riza. "And your name's Heyma-"

"Breda, kid," the man interrupted swiftly, "just call me Breda." Edward nodded, laughing hesitantly.

Roy observed the introductions from behind his desk with slight curiosity. Fuery was ecstatic that he was no longer the shortest one of the team, and Havoc, still sullen, tried to ignore the proceedings by melodramatically searching for a pencil.

Whatever, Roy thought to himself. He'd get over it.

The team had definitely taken a liking to Edward, thank goodness – the kid looked like he needed some friends – and they all seemed thankful that there was a new recruit to finish the most menial of tasks.

Roy blinked. Speaking of menial tasks, Falman was late – undoubtedly stuck under a collapsed pile of books – and his absence meant more work to do. And on that note…

Ignoring the rowdy conversation across the floor, Roy sauntered over to Falman's desk and picked up the disorganised pile of newspaper clippings that had been left there the night before. He thumbed through the articles, glancing briefly at each headline. They all told the same story: groups of radicals storming the city square, with dozens of protesters directing all of their vitriol towards the omnipotent Black Lion Corporation.

"Hey, Hawkeye," Roy called to his co-worker, "isn't this year supposed to be the year Black Lion turns eighty?"

Riza, who had been showing Edward a camera lens larger than his head, shrugged nonchalantly in response. "I'm not sure," she said, "though I thought that might be next year."

"Yeah, it's definitely next year," Breda argued, "I think they started their celebratory ad campaign a year early or something."

Roy turned back to the newspapers just as Havoc decided to add his two cents. The specific date of the company's birth as Black Lion Pharmaceuticals several decades ago was of mild importance; what really mattered was the public's lack of enthusiasm for the anniversary.

It went without saying that the general population was not entirely fond of Black Lion Corporation. It was easy to see how the poorer civilians would grow tired of living under the heel of the most powerful force in Amestris. The company was supposedly pioneering a new age, after all, and its influence could be felt in almost every sector of society: technological advancements, educational institutions, medicine and hospitals – even prosthetics lay within the company's line of expertise…

Roy glanced up at the blond teenager on the other side of the room. There was no mistaking what he'd felt in Edward's handshake the week before; a steel prosthetic was hidden under that glove. Roy wondered just how dependent on that corporate powerhouse Edward truly was.

Pursing his lips, Roy placed the newspaper clippings carefully back on the desk. He would deal with them later. A few passionate words from protesters wouldn't hold much sway if he wanted to expose Black Lion's true face to the public. No, certainly not – what Roy needed was someone on the inside who could leak information.

Fortunately, he had exactly that. But first – a new employee to put to work.

"Edward," Roy called across the room, "are you in any way familiar with offset printing?"

The blank look he received in return was not very encouraging.

* * *

Within the next few hours, Edward proved himself to be a valuable team member: his mind was sharp, and he was capable of committing himself to tasks much more difficult than buying cheap bagels.

Of course, his biggest setback happened to be an ego much larger than one would expect from such a tiny person. Not that anyone could say that to his face, of course; as Havoc unfortunately discovered when he thought he was making an innocuous comment, Edward's temper had quite a short fuse.

Even so, Edward worked efficiently, and spite of the fact that his performance was laden with snark, the office dynamic was a great deal livelier with his presence.

"Hey Ed," called Breda from across the room, "come sort out my folders for me! I can never seem to find anything in this mess." He gestured vaguely to the clutter that had somehow spread across the entire surface of his desk.

"If you didn't just throw your stuff everywhere, it wouldn't be messy in the first place," Edward grumbled, but his face had unmistakeably lit up at Breda's request, and he marched with purpose towards his newest charge. "You want this sorted alphabetically?"

"Uh – chronologically, actually," replied Breda, laughing. "I gotta say, Ed, you're making our jobs remarkably easier. Maybe things will start working out a little more around here." When he noticed Ed falter slightly, he added quickly, "Not that things haven't been going well, of course – we've just hit a bit of a roadblock, that's all."

"What kind of roadblock, exactly?"

Breda hesitated, and motioned for Ed to lean in closer before he continued in a low voice. "The public doesn't really think of us as anything more than a glorified gossip column, so to speak," he whispered, "but we're working on something big. Like, unbelievably big. I guess you jumped on our little boat at the right time, kid."

Edward waited for Breda provide an explanation of some sort, but the man just tapped his nose and grinned.

The office door burst open with a crash. Everyone jumped – Fuery screamed – and a tall, dark-haired man strode purposefully into the room and made his way to a flabbergasted Roy.

"I have a quarrel with you, mister," the man shouted accusingly, "do you have any idea what day it is today?"

Roy's jaw hung open for a few moments before he suddenly gasped. "Oh my god. I'm sorry Maes, I forgot, I'll send her a card tonight-"

"You _forgot?_ How could you forget her birthday! I'll have you know that my daughter was _heartbroken."_

"Oh, I'm sure Elysia was distracted by whatever ridiculous event you had planned," Roy said with a snort. "Anyway, keep your voice down, you're terrifying my new recruit."

Maes spun around immediately, and his attention honed in on Edward. He raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. "You took on an apprentice? Is he even old enough to work?"

Affronted, Edward crossed his arms. "I'm fifteen, y'know," he huffed, "that's more than old enough. And I do _not_ find you terrifying."

Maes considered the response for a moment, before he laughed heartily. "Well that's a relief. I'd make a terrible acquaintance if you did." He grabbed Edward's hand and shook it energetically. "My name's Maes Hughes."

"Do you, uh, work here?" Ed asked nervously, overwhelmed by Maes' excitement.

"Oh, no, no," he replied, waving his hand dismissively. "Journalism? No way. I'm not good at writing. I'm just an old friend of Roy's-"

"He's more of a tag-along," Roy interrupted.

"We've known each other since college, and don't you listen to a single word he says," Maes continued, his eyes twinkling. "In any case" – he turned around to address the rest of the crew – "Roy and I have a bit of an appointment, so I'll have to take him off your hands for a while, if you don't mind."

"Take him forever, we don't want him," Havoc jibed, and snickered at the scandalised expression on Roy's face.

Riza straightened her back authoritatively. "I'll watch over things here, Mustang," she assured him, "and if you want, I can give Ed the alkahestry books as well."

Roy, who was currently being ushered towards the door by an overly energetic Maes, waved his hand dismissively. "Sure thing, Hawkeye, just supervise him while he reads. And make sure he doesn't blow anything up." And with that, the two disappeared out of the room.

Almost immediately, the noise in the office died down. Edward watched the cheerfulness slowly disappear from everyone's faces as they returned to work. The boy sighed, and turned his attention back to Breda's files. There wasn't any recognisable pattern to how they'd been set out – how the hell was the man able to _find_ anything in this heap-

"Edward."

Ed dropped the files suddenly. "Uh – yes, Miss Hawkeye?"

"You can call me Riza, I'm not your boss," she assured him. "It's almost my lunch break. Did you want to have a look at some of those books now?"

Edward stared at her for a moment, and couldn't find the words to respond.

"I can't let you run off with them, of course," Riza continued, "I do know these books are quite precious to Mustang."

"No – yeah, I mean – yes! Yeah, that'd be great," Ed managed to blurt out.

Riza smiled, though her brow pinched when she glanced up at the clock. "I suppose Mustang won't know if we duck out ten minutes early," she murmured, "but he'd be a hypocrite if he had a problem with it. All right, Edward" – she squared her shoulders decisively – "We should probably settle in the kitchen first. Then we'll see what alkahestry has to offer you."

Ed's breath caught in his throat. Riza gestured towards the door, and her face glowed in the afternoon light.

* * *

The mischief that had shone in Maes' eyes a mere couple of minutes ago had all but vanished. He ran his fingers through his hair.

"When you say things are serious," Roy asked carefully, "exactly how serious do you mean?"

Maes drummed his fingers on the car door. "Serious as hell, my friend," he muttered, "you made a good call. Pull over here – your driving is nauseating, it's making my head spin."

Roy obliged, and turned the car down a side street before pulling up alongside the curb. He waited, staring expectantly at Maes, who laughed bitterly. "When all this blows over, you'd better give me some form of compensation for the stress."

"Maes," Roy said firmly, "tell me what's going on."

The other man paused, and drew in a deep breath before he pulled out a yellow folder from inside his coat. "Say, Roy – have you thought about taking your health insurance to one of Black Lion's competitors? Cheering for the underdog?"

"To be honest, I didn't think there were any."

"You'd be absolutely right, actually." Maes withdrew a sheet of lined paper from the folder and thrust it into Roy's hands. "Look up some of these when you get the chance. Individually, they seem quite harmless, but this stuff goes back decades, and the sheer_ amount_ of them is ridiculous…"

Roy scanned the page quickly. It looked like a huge list of names, but he did not recognise any of them. "Maes, what am I looking at?"

"A list of competitors to Black Lion Corporation," he explained, "may they rest in peace. Every single one of them ran into some kind of _accident_ before they were able to get a decent footing in the business. Burglaries, electrical fires – in some instances, the employers actually go missing and are never found again. It's all very odd-"

"I really appreciate this, Maes," Roy interrupted wearily, "but this doesn't really prove anything."

Maes looked somewhat affronted. "Like I said," he continued, crossing his arms, "when you look at them individually, it's a terrible accident. Seeing them all together, on the other hand, is unsettling."

"Why has nobody else noticed anything then?"

Pursing his lips, Maes dropped the yellow folder into Roy's lap. "All the technical stuff is in there." The man fell back into his seat the moment the folder slipped from his fingers, and he stretched his shoulders.

Roy carefully opened the folder. A sheet full of bank statements stared back at him, lying on top of a distressingly thin pile of paper. He could feel Maes' eyes watching him curiously.

"Black Lion has been paying out the media?" Roy finally asked. "Doesn't surprise me, to be honest, but that's… that's a lot of money..."

"It answers your previous question, as well," said Maes. "Nobody notices anything because nobody reports anything."

Roy tried to speak, but words seemed to catch in his throat. He could feel the uneasiness growing in his gut, but this still didn't feel like _enough-_

"Look at the next page," said Maes.

Roy threw him a sideways glance, and turned the paper over. It was clearly a copy of an official document – the symbol of the black lion was visible in the corner – and a map of Amestris had been printed on the bottom. He squinted – black and white printing rendered the details somewhat harder to decipher – but he could see small crosses scattered around the map.

"If you're wondering about the crosses," said Maes, "I checked those out already. They're marking hospitals and in-patient clinics all around the country."

"All the hospitals in Amestris?"

Maes shook his head. "Not all of them. But it turns out these hospitals in particular received some kind of anonymous donation not long after the date on this document." His fingers meandered to a loose thread on his jacket, and he tugged at it absent-mindedly. "And when I say anonymous donation," he continued, "I'm talking billions of cens. Seems like a payout from Black Lion that they don't want the public to know about. Though we tend to call those kinds of deals 'bribery', don't we?"

"Or blackmail." Chewing his lip, Roy turned his attention to the document's only paragraph.

_All shipments will be sent to the approved locations as outlined in the Sekhmet Initiative. If the general staff asks about anything, assure them it's being handled by administration. -S_

"The Sekhmet Initiative," he said, shifting in his seat to properly stare at Maes in confusion.

"Don't even ask me about what that could mean," his friend said quickly, "even with my access privileges, I couldn't figure any of that out."

"Signed with a mysterious 'S', too. I don't suppose there's any prizes for guessing who that could be."

Maes shrugged. "It's a bit obvious," he said warily. "Perhaps it's too obvious."

_A mysterious 'S'._ Roy stared at that singular letter in some vain hope that the sheer intensity of his gaze would force some hidden meaning out of the document.

"Perhaps," he said, without any real certainty.


End file.
